


To Build A Home

by CocoBadShip



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Depression, Established Relationship, F/F, Homophobia, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoBadShip/pseuds/CocoBadShip
Summary: It's taken quite a few steps to get here. Some small, some gigantic. Some certain. Others confusing as hell.**A 5+1 fic about how Maria Rambeau made a life with Carol Danvers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just have *a lot* of feelings about these two, okay?

1.

Carol is standing outside of her window at 11:43 p.m. one Wednesday night.  

The knocking doesn’t even startle Maria. She wakes up slowly and stares out of the window, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She makes out Carol’s hunched figure in the darkness, and Maria’s heart sinks, and she sighs in resignation.

_ Yeah. Figures.  _

Maria gets up and opens the window. She takes a few steps back as her girlfriend clambers inside, too shaky to climb in gracefully. Carol falls into Maria’s arms as she pulls herself the rest of the way into Maria’s room. 

“Shit, sorry,” Carol mumbles as she grabs onto Maria’s shoulders. 

Carol stands up straight and (slowly, jerkily) takes her hands off of Maria’s shoulders. Maria chuckles softly, the laugh coming out shakily. 

“You good,” Maria says. 

Her eyes explore Carol’s face. No obvious bruises or anything like that. Then she gets to Carol’s hands. Red, blue and purple decorate Carol’s knuckles. 

Maria takes Carol’s hands and hisses at the sight. Carol’s still shaking.

“Steve’s a fucking asshole. As usual,” Carol says. “And my dad is just . . .” 

Maria looks Carol in her eyes. “I know.” 

Oh, Maria knows  _ all  _ about that family of Carol’s. This is not surprising. It’s frustrating and scary and it pisses Maria off. But it’s not surprising. 

Carol tilts her head downward, letting her hair fall into her face. 

“I, um, just need to stay for tonight? Just for tonight, I can be gone by morning if you and Monica--”

Maria puts her hands on Carol’s shoulders, cutting Carol off mid-sentence. Maria starts to tug Carol’s beat-up brown leather jacket off of her. Carol frowns, startled at first, but then she realizes what Maria’s getting at. Carol shrugs out of the jacket, letting it fall in Maria’s hands. 

Maria tosses the jacket on the edge on her bed. She walks over to her dresser and starts rummaging through the pajama drawer, looking for the big baggy shirt Carol wore the last couple of times she spent the night. Maria keeps telling Carol that she can just keep the shirt, but Carol refuses to take it home. 

By the time that Maria’s found it, Carol’s taken off her shoes, jeans and shirt. Carol’s standing in her underwear, looking weirdly awkward, as if Maria and Carol haven’t seen each other undressed a million and one times. Maria hands Carol the shirt, and Carol pulls it over her head like she needs the fabric to protect her life. Carol’s got fear and agitation and  _ hurt  _ radiating off of her, and it all makes Maria’s stomach twist. 

Maria nods towards the bed, determined to not let her feelings show on her face. 

“We gotta get in bed,” Maria drawls out. “Gotta be up in like 5 hours.”

Before Carol can respond, Maria climbs back into the bed and looks at Carol expectantly. 

Carol smiles, and the sight makes Maria’s heart flutter. Carol climbs in next to her, and pulls the covers tightly around herself. They both squirm and move until Maria’s front is pressed against Carol’s back, and Maria has an arm casually tossed onto Carol’s side. 

There are a few totally silent moments. Then Carol sighs heavily.

“I’m sorry about this,” she says, her voice muffled by the pillow. She sounds so small. 

“Don’t be,” Maria grumbles. And she holds Carol tighter. 

**

Maria tries not to let her feelings be hurt when she sees that Carol is gone in the morning.

**

Hours later, Carol shows up to the base late and with an imperfect bun and a barely-ironed uniform. Maria watches Carol get a reprimand that Carol couldn’t care less about. Maria would think Carol’s disinterest funny if she weren’t becoming sick with worry. That sick feeling is becoming pretty commonplace for Maria. Sometimes, Maria looks at Carol and feels like she’s going to lose her at any moment. 

Carol reaches Maria’s work station and gives her a pathetic smile.

“Thanks. For last night,” she says and the tightness in her voice is driving Maria up the wall.

“And for the night a few weeks ago?” Maria asks. “Or the one a few weeks before that?”

Carol's face falls, and Maria tries to keep her own face straight. She didn't mean to sound so harsh.

“Look--I get it if you're over me coming over like that,” Carol says. “I know you've got to get Monica ready in the morning and I'm not making it any easier.”

“Carol--”

“And I know that you need your sleep and that I hog the covers and--”

“ _ Carol, _ it's fine, I promise,” Maria stresses. “I'm just worried about you. That's all.”

Carol smiles, a genuine, warm one this time. 

“Thanks,” she says quietly. “I'll be okay.”

Maria fights the urge to hug Carol while in their standing in the middle of the base like this.

“Yeah, you better be, Danvers,” Maria retorts, her voice just as soft. 

** 

Carol is okay. For a while. 

For a few months, actually. Carol and Maria are normal. They work together at the base. They go out to bars together. They lounge around Maria’s house together. They help Monica with her homework together. Carol seems normal, she seems  _ fine.  _ She tells Maria that she’s okay, and Maria actually feels comfortable believing her. 

But then Carol doesn’t show up for work one day. 

It’s not like her. 

It’s not like Carol to not show up. She’s been late, yes, but that’s only been a few times for specific reasons, none of them  _ good.  _ Carol worked too hard to get into the Air Force to just not show up for duty. 

Maria can barely work that day; her eyes keep glancing at the entrance, and she’s so tense and jumpy that she can feel her colleagues giving her a wide berth. Maria grits her teeth as she works, and it feels like she’s got electricity under her skin. She feels Dr. Lawson watching her, but at least Lawson knows not to ask Maria a question she doesn’t have the answer to. Maria’s barely keeping together as it is.

The end of her shift can’t come fast enough. 

**

Maria clocks out and rushes out of there like the building’s on fire. She gets in her car, and it actually takes her a while to remember the way to Carol’s house. Maria’s not been there in a while because of that man who calls himself Carol’s father. God, Carol’s gotta get out of there. They’ve had this conversation a million times. Just gotta live on the base, or get a small apartment. 

_ Or come live with me.  _

Maria’s nerves get more and more frayed as she drives. And it’s in these kinds of moments that Maria swears that Carol Danvers is going to kill her. Maria’s heart is going to give out because she let some white chick stress her out so much. Carol better be prepared to help Frank raise Monica, because Maria will end up six feet under fucking around with Carol. 

Maria finally pulls up in front of the Danvers’ home. Carol’s father and one of her brothers--Joe Sr. and Joe Jr.--are both sitting on the porch. Joe Sr. has a beer in his hand.

Maria gets out of the car and strides towards them, taking steadying breathes as she goes. Joe Jr. immediately stands up, looking anxious. Joe Sr. just glares. 

“Where’s Carol?” Maria demands without preamble. “Y’all seen her?”

Joe Jr. shakes his head. “No, not really. Not since really, really early this morning.” Joe Jr. glances at the ground before looking at Maria again. “I, um . . . we’d thought she’d be at your place.” 

Maria’s face falls. 

“She’s not,” she says flatly. “And she wasn’t on the base, either.”

Surprise and worry cross Joe Jr.’s face. Then he forces his face into nonchalance and shrugs. 

“I don’t know where she’s at,” he says. “She probably just went out somewhere.”

Goodness gracious, this boy can’t be this simple. Maria  _ knows  _ he isn’t.

“Joe,” Maria says in a hard voice, tilting her head at him. 

From the porch, Joe Sr. makes a gruff noise, and waves his hand at Maria.

“She’s probably at one of those dyke clubs you drag her to,” Joe Sr. grumbles dismissively. 

That  _ word  _ hits Maria in the center of her chest. She leans around Joe Jr. to get a better look at this father. Joe Jr. looks petrified. 

“I’m sorry,  _ what  _ was that?” Maria demands, and her hands instinctively ball into fists. 

Joe Sr. gives her a vicious stare. Then he stands up, the bottle of beer still dangling from his fingers. 

“You  _ heard  _ me,” he growls. “She’s probably at that one ‘club’  _ your kind  _ goes to. That rickety dive.” 

“Oh, ‘my kind’ _ ,  _ Mr. Danvers?” Maria starts shaking.

“ _ Yes,  _ your kind. You fucking queers.” 

“Look here, you fucking pig--”

Joe Jr. saves his father’s life; he stands directly in front of Maria again, his hands up in surrender.

“Come on, Maria,” Joe Jr. says plaintively. “Look--we don’t know where Carol’s at, okay? She got into it with Steve again--”

“Came in here babbling about that queer feminist shit last night,” Joe Sr. grumbles. “No one wants to hear any of that.” 

“Aye, you know what?  _ Fuck you _ , you got damn drunk!” Maria snaps.

Joe Jr. puts his hand on Maria’s forearm, but Maria swats it like he’s a mosquito. 

“ _ Ow, shit! _ ” 

“Don’t touch me, boy!” 

Before either man can articulate a response, Maria is stomping away. 

**

Maria finds Carol only 10 minutes later.

Joe Sr. is a bigot and an ass, but he knows his daughter. 

Carol sits way in the back of the bar, squeezed up in a shadowy corner. The sight makes Maria’s stomach drop. 

Maria walks over to Carol's table. Carol’s got her hat pulled down over eyes, but she looks up at Maria anyway. 

“You found me,” Carol says, her tone dry. She tries to smile at Maria. She fails. 

Maria sits down across from Carol. 

“You know your ass is grass tomorrow, right?” Maria says, her voice quivering slightly. “Lawson was looking for you all day today.” 

Carol snorts and stares at the empty glass in her hand. 

“I’ll tell her . . . I had a family issue,” Carol mumbles. Carol laughs humorlessly, and the sound makes Maria twitch. 

Okay. Maria can’t take this anymore. 

Maria grabs Carol’s wrist, causing Carol to look up at her. 

“We need to take you to your father’s house, and get as much of your stuff out of there as you can.” 

Carol squints and tilts her head at Maria. Like a confused golden retriever puppy. 

“Why?” Carol asks skeptically. “Where am I going?” 

Maria rolls her eyes and tries to hide her own nervousness. 

“Home. With me, fool,” Maria says. Then, more seriously: “I’m asking you to move in with me, Carol.” 

Carol blinks like Maria just threw sand in her eyes. Then a manic laugh escapes her lips.

“I can’t--I can’t just  _ move in  _ with you,” Carol stammers. “I mean-- _ can  _ I?” 

Maria looks down at her hand on Carol’s wrist. She runs her thumb over Carol’s soft skin.

“I don’t see why not,” Maria says.

Carol looks down at Maria’s hand. Carol’s face starts to redden: she’s blinking back tears now. Then she looks Maria in her eyes and grins widely. 


	2. Chapter 2

Monica is sick. 

Monica’s caught whatever this weird bug is that’s been going around her kindergarten class. Even the teacher was sick at some point a couple of weeks ago. The usually hyper Lieutenant Trouble has been reduced to a grumpy pile of sweat, thermometers, cold medicine and snot. 

Maria and Carol take Monica to the doctor, but only because Carol insists. Maria’s used to Monica getting sick, but Carol’s not and she needs to know that Monica isn’t on death’s door. Carol’s asking a million questions and Monica’s sitting on the examination table glaring into space with an irritated expression on her tiny little face, probably screaming in her head. Maria has to admit that it’s kind of funny to watch. 

When they get home, Carol sits Monica on the couch with her blanket, a cooling pack for her head, her cough and cold medicine. Carol makes Monica soup and sits next to her for the rest of the day, checking her temperature, and answering all the weird, whiny questions Monica has. 

And really, Maria doesn’t have to do anything at all. She cleans up Monica’s room just because, then she makes lunch for her and Carol. It’s been such a long while since there was really some else in the house to help out that Maria really doesn’t know how to act. 

It’s . . . nice. Really nice. 

**

Later in the afternoon, when Monica is in her room napping and Carol and Maria are debating which “Golden Girls” characters they’d be, Frank stops by. 

He knocks three times, the sound loud and heavy.

“Hey, Maria! It’s me! Open up!” 

Maria shares a look with Carol before getting up off of the couch. Maria and Frank don’t have a  _ bad  _ relationship, per se; he’s always been a good man. Frank sees Monica a few times a week, and he never misses child support. But he also never pops up out of the blue, either. 

Well, he didn’t use to. Really, he’s just started doing that a few months ago. When Carol moved in.

Maria can feel Carol’s eyes on her back as she opens the door. 

“Hey, Frank,” Maria says, and she’s proud of the fact that her nerves aren’t apparent in her voice. “Come on in.”

Frank walks into the room, and his eyes instantly fall to Carol on the couch. He nods at her. Carol blinks at him. 

“Sit down, Frank,” Maria says, nodding towards the loveseat. 

Frank sits down in the chair, but he sits damn near on the edge. He props his elbows on his knees and looks up at Maria. And Carol watches him with a blank expression on his face. 

Maria almost likes how Carol and Frank don’t even hide the fact that they dislike one another. 

Maria takes her seat on the couch, her arm pressed against Carol’s. Frank has the most minute reaction to it--a small twitch of his left eye--but it’s a reaction nonetheless.

“So, what’s up?” Maria asks. Tension rises in her. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re  _ both  _ here right now, because I was gonna have to talk to Carol, too,” Frank starts.

Carol instantly glares at Frank.

“Talk to me about  _ what,  _ exactly?” 

“I got a call today from a friend of mine who said that he saw you and Monica  _ out  _ somewhere today, when Monica was  _ supposed _ to be at school,” Frank says sternly. 

“ _ Excuse me?”  _ Carol asks, irritation all in her voice. 

Maria puts her hand on Carol’s knee, and rolls her eyes at her ex-husband. 

“Monica didn’t go to school today, Frank,” Maria explains. “She’s sick. And the only place she went with Carol was to the  _ doctor _ \--where I  _ also  _ went.” 

Frank looks at Maria skeptically. “DJ didn't say anything about seeing  _ you. _ Just Carol.”

“Well, maybe if he wasn't so busy  _ spying  _ and had come over to say hello, he would've seen Maria,” Carol interjects. 

Frank and Carol stare at each other tensely before Frank breaks his gaze and looks at Maria. 

Maria shrugs. “She’s right.” 

Frank sighs heavily and rubs his eyes. 

“Aight, I’m sorry,” he grumbles. 

Carol rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, bumping Maria in the process. She mouths “Sorry” to Maria, and Maria snorts. The sound causes Frank to look at Maria again. He has a determined look in his eye that can only mean trouble for them.

“Look. I have to be completely honest here,” Frank says. 

“Honest about . . . ?” Maria is very quickly growing impatient with him.

“About this . . .  _ arrangement  _ you two have,” Frank says. Then, almost too quickly: “I’m not exactly comfortable with the fact that Carol is living here.” 

Maria’s heart sinks, and she’s feels her face start to burn. She doesn’t need to look over at Carol to know that Carol is furious; Maria can feel her shaking.

Maria leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees. 

“You wanna explain  _ why _ ?” Maria challenges. Next to her, Carol is dead silent and radiating rage, and all of that hot energy is directed at Frank. 

“You can’t--” Frank stammers, distracted by the looks on their faces. “It’s just . . . damn it, Maria, you can’t just move  _ some woman  _ into the house with our daughter!”

“ _ Some woman?!” “What’s that mean?!”  _ Both women speak, Carol barely keeping her voice down. Maria is on her feet before she knows it, staring down at Frank with irritation. 

“Oh, come off it, Frank,” Maria retorts. “You’ve known Carol since Monica was  _ 2 and a half! _ Or have you forgotten that fast?”

“Tuh! How  _ could _ I forget that?” Frank asks through gritted teeth. “It’s around the same time you left me to start spending every second of your life with your new  _ drinking buddy! _ ”

Carol’s off the couch and standing next to Maria in a second.

“Your problem is with  _ me _ , right?” Carol demands. “What’s really up? Because I’ve been in Monica’s life in some way since she was a baby.”

Frank finally stands, taking his sweet time doing so. He crosses his arms and looks at Carol evenly. 

“You weren’t  _ living  _ here,” Frank says. “And you living here means you are  _ a lot  _ closer to Monica than you were before.”

Maria can feel herself starting to lose her grip on her temper.

“Yeah, she is,” Maria says, barely controlling her voice. “Carol’s been living here and doing chores and helping Monica with homework and taking her to the  _ doctor  _ when she’s sick. She’s been  _ helping  _ me, Frank. Helping me raise  _ your  _ daughter. So, what exactly is--”

“This is about me being gay,” Carol quietly cuts in, and her words suck the air out of the room. 

The color drains from Frank’s face, and he goes stone still. Maria’s stomach drops, and she swears she can feel her throat closing.

“ . . . Isn’t it?” Carol presses, looking Frank in his face. “You don’t want Monica living with some gay woman.”

Frank fidgets and glances at Maria so quickly that she almost thinks she's imagined it. 

Maria turns to Frank and gives him a hard stare.

"Is it, Frank?" the words sounds like a curse coming from Maria's mouth. "Because that would be stupid, considering that--technically speaking--Monica was  _already_ living with a  _gay woman._ Right?" 

"You're her mother," Frank says quietly, his voice bitter. "And you're a really good one, so I wasn't about to take that away from you even though you . . . you're in this new 'lifestyle' now."

" _Oh,_ " Carol interjects. Tears of frustration well up in Carol's eyes. "So, this is about  _us._ Me and Maria." 

Frank sets his jaw and refuses to meet Carol's eye. 

". . . you two weren't doing this in front of herat first."

" 'In front of her,'" Maria echoes. Her hand twitches. "What does  _that_ mean?"  

Frank says nothing; he doesn’t even look at her for a while. Then he sighs and lifts his eyes.

“I didn’t come over here to fight with y’all,” Frank says softly. “And I didn’t mean to hurt either of you. But you gotta understand why I’d be worried, right? I mean, don’t you think this will end up being . . .  _ confusing _ for Monica? I mean, Maria, how are you gonna explain you and Carol to her when she asks? And what about Monica’s friends? What are they gonna say if they ever find out--”

“Get out, Frank,” Maria’s voice is hushed, but her words are full of thunder. 

Frank sputters. “But, Maria--”

“Get. Out.” 

Frank shuts up. He nods once, curtly. Then he heads for the door, and Maria stares holes in his back the whole time he walks. 

“You know,” Frank says, as he opens the door, “we  _ are  _ going to have to talk about this eventually.” 

Before Maria can say anything back to him, Frank’s out of the door, letting it slam behind him. 

The loud noises wakes Monica up.

“Mommy . . . ?” she whines, and the sound of her voice nearly makes Maria burst into tears. 

“Coming, baby!” Maria yells. 

Maria turns back to Carol. Carol’s got both of her hands stuffed into her pockets, and Maria can tell she’s gritting her teeth. 

“I’m good,” Carol sighs. “Go check on Lieutenant Trouble. I’m fine.” Carol smiles, but the smile is so tight that it must hurt her face a little.

Carol walks around Maria and into the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go do the dishes,” she mumbles. 

Maria watches Carol as she goes. If either of them were in a joking mood, Maria would tell Carol that she reminds her of a sad golden retriever puppy. 

Carol turns on the kitchen sink, and Maria stands there listening to the water run for a long moment before she goes to check on Monica. 

Monica’s sitting straight up in bed, looking dazed and confused. The poor baby has sweat so much that her baby hairs are plastered to her forehead.

“ ’mhungry,” Monica mumbles. “And I think I’m stinky.” 

Maria makes a show of wrinkling her nose. 

“Yeah, you smell like a sweat monster,” she says playfully, and Monica gives the most hearty laugh she’s given all day. 

Maria gets Monica a fresh pair of pajamas, and then takes her to the bathroom to get washed up. Monica’s returning to form; she chattily explains some weird dream involving a tall, strong green woman and a man made of rocks as Maria helps her get redressed. 

By the time Maria takes the now clean and sweat-free Monica into the kitchen, Carol’s made a big bowl of chicken soup for Monica, and is making spaghetti for herself and Maria. 

“Why can’t I get some spaghetti?” Monica whines as she sits at the table.

Carol puts the big bowl of hot soup in front of the pouting Monica. 

“Because you need the  _ soup _ , LT,” Carol answers with a smirk.  She turns back towards the stove and her pot of spaghetti. “It’ll help with all the snot in her head!” Carol calls over her shoulder. 

Monica pulls a face of disgust. 

“The snot is so  _ grooooooss _ !”

Maria bites back a giggle. “Then you’d better eat that soup!” 

“Yes,  _ ma’am. _ ”

Monica starts slurping her soup loudly, and Carol chortles as she cooks. Maria has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at both of her silly girls. 

Maria watches Carol move around as she cooks. All the tension has dissipated from Carol’s body, and her voice is light again. At first glance, it can look like Frank never came over at all. But when Maria looks longer, she can see still Frank’s words lingering in Carol; they’re in the dimmed light of Carol’s eyes. They’re tugging the corners of Carol’s mouth downward ever so slightly. 

Hell, Frank’s words have sunk themselves into Maria, too: they’ve settled into the pit of her stomach, making it tight and sore. Maria grits her teeth, and she almost wishes she  _ hadn’t  _ kicked him out when she did, because she kicked him out before she could properly cuss him out.  

The anger starts reignite in Maria. Her ex has the same thoughts about them that every nasty man on the street does, that every crooked pastor has ever had. The same thoughts as Carol’s father has. Frank’s just like them in that way. He’s just disguised his ignorance as “concern.” 

A plate of spaghetti appears in front of Maria’s face, pulling her out of her darkening thoughts. Carol’s face floats above the food, her big brown eyes staring at Maria with trepidation, and her blonde hair hanging down like curtains around her face. 

Maria smiles at Carol, and Carol relaxes a little. Then Carol takes her seat, and the three of them eat dinner. Monica loudly slurps her soup again, blissfully unaware of the small world around her. 

** 

“ . . . Is Frank right?”

Maria is on the edge of sleep when Carol asks. The tentative question is already muffled thanks to Carol’s mouth being pressed against Maria’s shoulder. Maria’s so focused on feeling of Carol’s lips against her shoulder and Carol’s hot hand against her thigh that she almost forgets that Carol asked a question. 

“No,” Maria answers groggily. “Frank’s never right about anything.”

“Remember a few months back when we took Monica to the fair, and Frank kept warning us that we were letting her have too much sugar?”

“Aight, Frank’s been right about  _ one  _ thing in Monica’s life,” Maria concedes. “But he was wrong today.”

“Are we  _ sure  _ he’s wrong, though?” Carol asks, her voice tight and anxious. “I mean, Monica’s going to eventually have  _ questions,  _ right?” 

Without warning, Maria turns over to face Carol’s direction.

“Carol,” Maria says. “Is this really what you want to be talking about at midnight?” 

Carol looks at Maria with sleepy affection in her face. 

“Your bonnet is twisted.”

“I don’t care,” Maria responds with a drowsy chuckle. “Just like I don’t care about Frank and his stupidity right now. And you shouldn’t either. Mmkay?” 

Carol leans over and kisses Maria, slowly and deeply. Then she lays on her head on Maria’s pillow, and gazes at her.

“Okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This is basically shaping up to be a series of snapshots into Maria/Carol's relationship over the course of a couple of years.
> 
> \- I realized the first chapter sounds way less gay than I meant it to, so I just want to reiterate that Maria and Carol have been doing gay shit for a minute now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gayness intensifies*

Mama Mae (excitedly) agrees to let Monica spend the night, and she’s the best mother Maria could have ever asked for. 

“Y’all need a night out,” Mama Mae says as she squeezes her granddaughter to her side. 

Monica grins up at Maria and Carol with the brightest smile. Maria suspects that Monica is going to get whatever she wants whenever she wants it tonight, and maybe she should be more concerned than she is. But Carol laces their fingers together and pulls her out of the door before Maria’s better judgement can kick in. 

“We’ll be back home at around 11!” Carol cheerfully says as she and Maria go. 

“Bye mommy! Bye Auntie Caroool!” Monica yells at them. 

“Love you! Don’t be letting her stay up all night! Or watching anything scary!!” Maria yells back. She and Carol disappear into Carol’s car. 

Mama Mae chuckles as she watches them go.

“Just as silly as they wanna be,” she mutters to herself. 

**

“ _ I’ve got to be! Got to be certain! I’ve got to be suuuuure!” _

“Oh my  _ God! _ ” 

The other women around Maria laugh wildly as Maria struggles to contain herself. Somehow, karaoke night with a couple of other ladies on the base as turned into “Carol drunkenly singing and dancing and blowing kisses at Maria while everyone cheers her on” night. 

And maybe Maria should be a little embarrassed by all this. Or maybe even a little concerned since there are a few dudes from the base hanging around this bar as well. 

But honestly, Maria’s almost just as drunk, and has been laughing like a loon the whole time. 

_ “I’ve had my share! Of hearts brooken! I don’t want to take that anymooooore!”  _

Maria’s hands fly to her face. The drinks and Carol’s silly love is almost to much to deal with. 

And then Carol makes it worse; she drunkeningly dances off of the stage, over to Maria, and wraps her long arm arm around Maria’s shoulder and puts her cheek on Maria’s forehead as she sings.

“ _ If you believe in me! If you want our love to beee! I know you’ll wait for meee!!” _

A whole crowd of drunk women sing “ _ Oh, oh ooooh!”  _ all off-key and slurred. It sounds like the whole bar is singing along now, encouraging Carol’s goofiness. 

_ “I’ve got to be! Got to be ceertain! I’ve got to be suuure! I’ve had my share! Of hearts broooken! And I can’t take that anymoooore!”  _

The crowd hoots and cheers, and Maria pulls Carol into an unsteady hug. They giggle as they almost fall out of Maria’s chair. 

“You guys are  _ soooo  _ cute!” One lady coos, and they all laugh, and the joyful sounds make Maria feel warm. 

Distantly, Maria wonders why everyone can’t be like this all the time. 

**

“Cute song.”

Maria and Carol are chilling at the bar when the guy approaches. 

He looks vaguely familiar to Maria, but that could just be because he’s wearing the same button-up shirt and khaki pants that Maria sees on a lot of men who work near the base. 

He’s got bland brown hair and even blander green eyes. His face is very, very nondescript--he kind of looks like one of those mannequins in the Men’s section of Goldsmith. 

But the disgusted look in his eyes is definitely distinguishable. 

Carol hops off of her barstool and crosses her arm. Maria is impressed by her motor skills considering how damn wasted she is. 

“Thanks,” Carol says flatly. “Glad you enjoyed it.” 

The man sneers at Carol, giving her the creepiest up-and-down look that he can probably muster. 

“It’s a real shame,” he says. “Because you’re both hot as hell. It’s a fucking waste.” 

“Buddy, the only way we could waste being ‘hot’ is if we were going out with guys like  _ you, _ ” Carol shoots back. 

The man blinks, clearly embarrassed, but he’s refusing to admit defeat.

“Yeah, neither of you bitches could handle a cock like mine.” 

Maria swivels around, her full glass of rum and Coke still in her hand. 

“The fuck you just say?!” Maria sounds drunk, even to her own ears, but she’ll be damned if she ignores that nasty ass comment. 

But Carol puts her hand firmly on Maria’s knee.

“Relax, babe, okay?” Carol says. “He’s not worth it.”

Maria blinks. She’s not used to this level-headed woman who looks like Carol. 

The man snorts. “Yeah, right. Fucking ‘not worth it,’” he mumbles. “How can you butch bitches tell if a man is ‘worth it?’” 

Maria looks at Carol, silently begging to her let her dust this man. Carol shakes her head, and Maria’s starting to wonder what was in her drinks to make her so annoyingly calm and rational.

But then Carol reaches over and takes Maria’s drink from her hand. Without warning, Carol turns around and tosses the entire drink into the man’s face.

“Ah! You fucking  _ bitch-- _ ” 

Carol punches the man directly in the nose. Maria’s pretty sure that she just heard a soft  _ crack!  _

The man falls flat on his back, his legs flying up as he lands. Maria cackles. This big, tough guy is laid out on the ground, tears streaming down his tomato-red face. 

“ _ Owww! _ ” he whines, cupping his bloody nose as he lies on the ground. 

Carol reaches behind her and takes Maria’s hand, pulling Maria off of her barstool.

“Let’s go home,” Carol calmly says. 

Maria grins and follows Carol out of the bar. 

**

They almost trip and fall five times while they’re trying to get to the bedroom. 

Maria doesn’t even know if she’s locked the front door behind them, but she doesn’t care; she’s too focused on the sweet, intoxicating taste of Carol’s kisses. 

Maria finds herself pressed up against a wall as they kiss. Carol kisses Maria like this is the last time she’ll ever do it. 

Carol’s shaky hands find Maria’s belt buckle, then the button and zipper of Maria’s jeans. They stop kissing just long enough for Maria to step out of her jeans. As soon as they’re down around her feet, Carol attacks Maria’s mouth again. 

Carol’s hands find their way up Maria’s shirt and under her bra. Carol rubs her thumbs over Maria’s nipples, making Maria moan softly into Carol’s mouth. It’s not long before they’re pulling Maria’s shirt off and tossing it onto the couch, and her bra is falling to the ground.

Maria’s hand slides into Carol’s hair as Carol’s head dips. Carol licks and sucks Maria’s nipples, taking her time with each one. And Maria giggles because it tickles, and her whole body is hot, and she’s  _ wet  _ and it’s all too much right now. 

Carol starts kissing her way down Maria’s body; down her stomach, past her navel. Before Maria realizes it, Carol’s on her knees in front of Maria, and she’s got Maria’s lacy panties in between her teeth. 

“ _ Shit, _ ” Maria’s voice shakes as she watches Carol. 

Carol grins up as she pulls Maria’s panties down. Carol motions for Maria spreads her legs a little more. Maria spreads her leg wide, waiting to give Carol as much room as possible.

Carol swivels her tongue around Maria’s clit before fully sucking on it. Carol buries her face in Maria’s pussy as she eats her, and Maria is making a bunch of noises that she’ll probably be embarrassed about later. 

“Fuck, fuck  _ fuck, _ ” Maria mutters, her voice strained and squeaking as she moans. 

Maria grips Carol’s hair, and she starts to move her hips. Carol makes a moaning noise, and starts to pat the back of Maria’s thing. She’s urging Maria to move more, encouraging her to fuck Carol’s face. 

So Maria lets herself go; she grinds against Carol’s face as Carol licks and sucks her off. And fuck, Maria’s grateful for the friction, and Carol’s tongue and lips, and for the way Carol moans and gripes Maria’s thighs. It’s all building up in the bottom of Maria’s stomach, and she’s getting all over, and it’s only matter of time before Maria just breaks.

Carol squeezes Maria’s thigh again, and looks up at Maria with her big brown eyes. Carol makes an obscene noise as she sucks on Maria’s clit for  _ long  _ moment. 

And that’s what does it; Maria cums, her body shaking, a raspy, “ _ Oh, shit”  _ escaping her mouth as she spills into Carol’s mouth. Carol starts to tongue fuck Maria as Maria rides her orgasm out. 

Maria’s body starts to relax as her orgasm subsides. Carol gives Maria’s pussy lips one more peck and looks up at Maria with a devious look in her eyes. 

“Was that good?’ Carol asks with a smirk.

“Fuck  _ off _ ,” Maria says with a laugh. Then she looks at Carol’s kneeling form and squints. “How’d I end up being the only naked one here?”

Carol shrugs. “Don’t know. Guess I got excited. You wanna change that?”

Maria grins and pulls Carol to her feet.

“Hell yeah, I do.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Carol is already up and getting dressed when Maria wakes up.

The only reason Maria even wakes up is because of the pale sunlight that Carol’s let into the room by opening the blinds. When Maria forces her eyes open and rolls over, she sees that she’s awake a full 40 minutes before their alarm clock is set to ring.

But Carol’s up and moving around and letting light in the room like they aren’t losing precious sleep right now.

“Morning, sleepy heeeaaad,” Carol says cheerfully as Maria sits up and glares at her girlfriend.

“Girl, what the hell is going on here?” Maria grumbles. “Why are you awake? And why are you _happy_ about being awake?”

Carol grins, and Maria is annoyed and confused. It’s harder to get Carol out of bed than it is to get _5-year-old Monica_ out of bed. Carol usually wakes up with wrath in her eyes, angry at the world that demands she be awake and functioning. Most mornings, it takes a good shower, kisses from Maria and silly, slightly morning delirious questions from Monica to get Carol past her morning moodiness.

Carol slides into the bathroom and turns on the sink. Maria can hear her brushing her teeth furiously.

“Got a big day today! You remember, right?” Carol’s voice is muddled as she talks around the toothbrush and toothpaste in her mouth. She leans her head out of the bathroom, and Maria snorts at the goofy sight.

Maria snorts. That’s right, today’s the day of the first official (as “official” as this extremely secret project can get)  test flight with Dr. Lawson. They’ve been working on Lawson’s new jet engine for God knows how long, and today’s the day that they’ll be flying it for the first time.

 _Of course_ Carol is this excited. Hell, Maria would be, too, if she were actually flying today.

“ _You_ got a big day,” Maria says, finally climbing out of bed. “I’mma have a boring, normal day today.” Maria tries not to let envy crawl into her voice.

Carol slides back into the bathroom, finishes brushing her teeth. She pops back out with a huge, silly grin on her face. She’s practically vibrating with excitement.

“Lawson says you’ll go on the next test!” Carol says cheerfully. “Lawson already said she wants you to test the engine, too!”

“But you get to go on the _first_ one. Because you’re her favorite,” Maria mumbles with a pout.

Yes, she knows she’s being childish. No, she doesn’t care. Besides, the childishness makes Carol laugh as she walks over to Maria and wraps her arms around her waist.

“I promise to tell you every single thing you need to know,” Carol says. “Okay?” She bats her eyes at Maria, and Maria feels herself melt.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Maria says petulantly.

Carol narrows her eyes at Maria, then gives her waist a squeeze.

“Come on, give me a smile,” Carol says teasingly.

Maria rolls her eyes . . . but she can’t help the broad smile that spreads across her face. Carol’s face lights up.

“There we are,” she says sweetly. Then she kisses Maria on the cheek. “Now, go brush your teeth. So I can give you a real kiss without tasting morning breath.”

Maria squirms out of Carol’s reach and slams her hand over her mouth.

“Fuck off, Danvers!” she squeaks out. Then she rushes into the bathroom, Carol’s soft, happy laughing ringing in her ears.

**

Monica is nearly bouncing out of her chair at breakfast.

Maria looks at her daughter as if she’s never seen her before. Really, Maria never _has_ seen Monica this excited and cheery and awake at breakfast. Monica’s little face is all aglow as she shovels pancakes into her mouth.

Maria shoots a suspicious look at Carol, but of course Carol is no help; she’s still glowing and bouncy herself, and the anticipation of today’s events is all over her face.

“Okay,” Maria says with a sigh, “why am _I_ the only one who didn’t want to get up this morning?”

Monica looks over to her mouth with wide eyes and a mouth covered with maple syrup.

“Are you still sleepy?” Monica asks sweetly. “ _Oh--_ did you have weird dreams last night?? Because I did!” Monica blinks and moves her chair closer to Maria. “You can tell me about yours and I’ll tell you about mine!”

Maria chuckles and wipes Monica’s face with a napkin.

“Baby, I don’t think I could have a dream as weird as yours are,” Maria says as she wipes at the syrup on Monica’s lips. “Was the big green lady in your dreams last night?”

Monica nods vigorously. “Yes, ma’am, she was! And there was a stretchy man and a man made of rocks and an invisible lady and--”

“Whoa, slow down, Trouble,” Carol says with a warm laugh. “You’re outta breath!”

“It was _really weird_ , Auntie Carol!” Monica exclaims, her tiny face alight. “And I keep having them!”

Carol rubs Monica’s hair softly. She looks at Monica so fondly that it makes Maria’s heart flutter.

“You can tell us all about it when we get home, okay?” Carol suggests.

Monica grins widely. “Okay! And then mommy can tell me about hers!”

Carol looks over at Maria with a sly grin. Maria rolls her eyes, but then she smiles.

“Yeah, I sure will, baby,” Maria says. “Now let’s get you to school.”

**

The day is normal.

Lawson comes to pick up Carol about an hour into the day, at around 8:15 a.m. Carol and Maria wave goodbye. Carol gives Maria a furtive wink, and Maria rolls her eyes at her again. Maria watches Carol leave and tries to remember to not be jealous.

Then Maria works. There’s an E-6 Mercury that needs a post-test-flight inspection, and that takes longer than it should because her co-inspectors keep goofing off. Then there’s a F-15E with a wonky engine, and Maria and her crew work on that until they’re all dirty, tired and hungry as hell.

Maria cleans up and breaks for lunch, and it isn’t until around 1:32 p.m. that Maria realizes that Carol’s test flight has taken longer than Maria had thought it would. Of course Maria didn’t come this morning  expecting the test to be a short thirty minutes or anything like that, but five hours seems like a long time, doesn’t it? They’ve both been on test flights that normally are two hours tops.

But hey, it’s a new engine, and Carol and Lawson are both such nerds that they probably spent an hour just sitting around talking about it first. Maria figures that they’ll be done soon. So she finishes her lunch, and goes back to work on the F-15E, successfully pushing the time out of her mind.

Well, she pushes the time out of her mind for a little while. But then 1:32 p.m. turns into 2:47 p.m. And 2:47 p.m. turns into 3:25 p.m. And Maria’s done fiddling around with planes for the day and she’s filed all her paperwork, and now she has nothing else to do be wait and wonder and _worry._

What in the hell is going on? Where’s Carol?

No one around her seems to notice anything is off. Everyone’s working, eating, exercising. Just carrying on about their day.

Maybe Maria’s overreacting. Maybe this test was supposed to this long. Maybe Carol and Lawson have to do some heavy duty debriefing because the nature of this engine. Maria tells herself to relax, to not panic in front of her coworkers.

But sooner than she would like, 3:25 p.m. turns into 5:05 p.m.; it’s time to go home.

Maria packs up anxiously; her stomach hurts, and her hands keep twitching. Maria keeps glancing at the door, watching for Lawson, watching for Carol.

At 5:15 p.m., a group of men walk in, dressed in dark suits, wearing grave expressions on their faces. Maria’s stomach drops.

The day was normal. Until it wasn’t.

**

There’s this condition called “tinnitus.” Most people don’t know that word for it--they just call it “ringing in the ear.” It’s usually caused by some head trauma or extremely loud noise, like a gunshot or explosion. The noise can be so persistent, lasting hours, days, weeks.

Maria’s not been near a gun today, and there wasn’t an explosion on base or anything like that. But right now, as she sits in this tiny ass office across from a general she’s never met, Maria can hear a loud, grating ringing in her ear. The sound is so loud that it almost manages to mask the horrifying news the general tells Maria.

Carol’s gone.

They received a report of a crash at around 09:32 hours this morning. They made the scene to find the plane Lawson and Carol had taken off in wrecked, with heavy damage and scorch marks to its front. The engine was gone.

So was Lawson. And Carol.

They brought a search party in, and the search for them “officially” began at 10:34 hours. They searched the area until approximately 10 minutes ago, stopping at 17:05 hours. Technically, they’ve only stopped for the night.

“We plan to continue in the morning,” the general--Johnson--tells Maria, bless his heart. How optimistic of them.

Maria doesn’t look up at his face; the ringing in her ears gets worse when she looks at his face. So she keeps his eyes on the stack of papers on the desk; there’s a photo of Carol among them, a picture she took right after she--after she and Maria both--finished basic training.

“I am aware that Dr. Lawson entrusted you and Danvers both with information regarding the test engine,” Johnson says. “And I am sure that you understand the incredibly sensitive nature of this information . . .”

“You want me to lie,” Maria says it so quietly that she can barely hear her own voice.

But Johnson hears her just fine.

“We cannot allow this information to be public,” Johnson’s voice grows cold, his pronunciation more deliberate. Almost robotic. “You know this.”

Maria fixates on the smiling picture of Carol on the desk, casually tossed in between sheets of plane specifications. Lots of government nonsense.

“Yes,” Maria agrees detachedly, “I do.”

“Good. I’m glad we’re at an understanding on this,” Johnson says, still robotic and stiff. Then, more human-sounding now: “I’m sorry, Rambeau.”

The ringing in Maria’s ears gets louder, and she closes her eyes.

**

Monica doesn’t sleep all that much.

She wakes up randomly through the night, crying and sniffling. Maria can feel Monica’s tears fall against her arm almost every time Monica wakes up.

Maria wipes Monica’s tears each time. She runs her hand over daughter’s hair, murmuring softly that it’ll be okay, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. We’re gonna be alright, I promise.

It’s not helping. Not really. Monica is _hurt_ , hurt much worse than any kindergartner should ever be. But these soft touches and sweet, empty words are all Maria can give her. They’re all Maria can give herself.

So, Maria will choke back her own tears as she runs her thumb across Monica’s cheek. She’ll hold Monica as tight as either of their bodies will allow tonight and tomorrow night and probably countless nights after that. And Maria will tell Monica that it’ll be okay one day.

Even if Maria doesn’t believe that it will.


	5. Chapter 5

The service is a blur. All funeral services are. 

Maria doesn’t remember her father’s funeral. She was 13 and fully awake the whole time, but she doesn’t remember a second of it. She just remembers walking to their old church out in the country: creaky brown floorboards, mahogany pews that were uncomfortable, and walls that seemed to sag with age. 

Maria remembers walking in there, holding her mother’s hand. And then there’s this blank space in her mind. 

The same thing will probably happen to Monica, Maria figures. 

Monica spends the whole service pressed up against Maria’s side, a tiny hand latched onto the front of Maria’s dress. Monica stares ahead, her eyes half-shut and full of tears. Maria holds her close, bends down to kiss the top of her head, but Monica doesn’t respond to it. 

This church is much bigger; a chandelier dangles from its high ceiling.  The pews are made of dark wood, and have thick, bright red cushions on them. The lines are lined with men--and women--in uniform: lots of colleague that Maria barely recognize. The folded American flag looks too wide for the empty brown casket it’s draped over. The orange-tinged, artificial lighting casts a dizzying glow over the room.

It all looks like a dream. A horrible, never-ending dream. 

Maria wonders how much of this day Monica will remember. 

She hopes Monica remembers nothing--that it’s a blank, dark space in her mind. That’s probably a bad thing for Maria to wish for. But she can’t help it. Maria will wish for anything to spare Monica all this pain. 

**

Joe Sr. doesn’t look at Maria during the burial. He doesn’t even turn his head in her direction. 

Steve looks at her briefly, awkwardly. 

Joe Jr. stares--a long look that makes Maria’s skin prickle. But then she can feel his eyes divert from her. When Maria glances over to him, he’s still staring at the ground, his eyes wide with alarm and fear. 

Frank’s standing next to Maria. And there’s no telling what kind of look he just gave Junior. 

Maria doesn’t want to think about it; she doesn’t want to even let it linger in her mind. She focuses on the feeling of Monica’s hand in hers, on the faint smell of freshly-cut grass, on the picture of Carol precariously perched on top of the casket. It’s a serious photo; Carol’s face is as neutral as possible. But when Maria looks at it longer, she can see the hint of a smile on Carol’s lips, and she can see a faint twinkle in Carol’s eyes. 

Maria wishes they’d chosen a picture of her smiling. 

Monica leans her up against Maria’s arm, her cheek landing on her mother’s wrist. Maria looks down to see Maria blinking up at her. A new wave of grief and frustration washes over Maria. But she swallows back her tears, and gives Monica a small smile. 

Monica blinks up at Maria, her eyes big and wet. She squeezes Maria’s hand. Then she smiles back. 

** 

Monica graduates from kindergarten.

Her cap and gown are just a little bit too big for her, and she looks extra tiny in the extra fabric as she stands on a large stage clutching her diploma. Monica beams with pride as she waves at Maria from the stage. Between Maria, Frank and Mama Mae, they have enough pictures of Monica’s graduation to fill three photo albums. 

Maria keeps snapping photos, even when she knows she’s running out of film. She wants to hold this moment forever; Monica smiling, her face aglow, the light giddiness in the air around them all. It’s a moment they haven’t had in a way. 

Later, when they’re crammed in the booth of a Chuck E. Cheese, stuffing their faces with the graduation cake Maria bought, Maria watches as Monica runs and plays with her classmates until she’s out of breath. The kids giggle and shout, and the din probably should bother Maria as much as it clearly bothers the other parents.

But Maria actually focuses on the noise, letting it drown out the sound of Mama Mae and Frank talking across from Maria. She’d rather hear the jubilant sound of  Monica’s laughter, a carefree sound that Maria’s not heard enough of in the past six months. 

She thinks of Carol. Of course she thinks of Carol. Maria imagines that Carol would probably be on the play floor with Monica, under the guise of “watching” Monica. Really, it’d just because Carol was wanted to play games, too. And then when she was tired, she’d saunter back over to Maria, slide into the booth next to her, and shove a piece of cake in her mouth.

Maria would call her a child, and Carol would laugh loudly, letting her voice add to the cacophony of the restaurant. Then they’d lean as close into each other as they could and start musing about how Maria will like 1st grade. 

Carol should be here. Carol should fucking _be here._

“Maria . . .?”

Maria blinks out of her daydreams; Mama Mae is calling her name, worry apparent in her voice. Maria looks to see Mama Mae and Frank both watching her too closely. 

“Yes ma’am?” 

“How you doing today? ” Mama Mae looks at her sternly, and Maria has to force herself not to recoil from the gaze. “Honestly. How’re you feeling?” 

Elated, and nostalgic. And apprehensive, excited. And angry, and frustrated, and lonely, and _sad._ Really damn sad. Maria shrugs. 

“Monica’s happy today, so I’m good. I just need her to be happy today.” 

It’s not a lie, not really. But saying it still makes Maria’s stomach twist into a knot. 

They both want to call her on it; she can see it in their faces. But neither of them do. Frank slides out of the booth, mumbling something about the bathroom. Mama Mae reaches across the table and squeezes Maria’s hand. 

“You gone get through it,” she whispers, her soft voice somehow sounding louder than the hundreds of kids around them. “I promise.” 

**

Monica keeps a box of Carol’s things.

Maria finds out about it the day after Monica’s sixth birthday. She goes into Monica’s room to fuss at her about leaving her birthday gifts in the living room. Maria finds Monica sitting in the middle of her bed, peering down into a small brown box. 

When Maria walks over and looks inside of the box, she’s shocked; there are pictures of herself and Carol, Carol’s favorite bracelet, old drawings Carol and Monica had made together. Stuff Maria hadn’t wanted to look at in almost a year. 

Monica holds the box tightly and looks up at Maria.

“I was thinking of her yesterday, and I found a lot of this just laying around,” she mumbles. “I thought I could keep it . . .”

Maria feels like someone’s reached into her chest and gripped her heart too tightly. She leans down and kisses Monica on the forehead.

“Yeah, baby, you can keep it,” she mutters. 

Tears fall from Maria’s eyes and land on Monica’s hair. Monica reaches up and hugs Maria tightly. They hold on to each as if they don’t think they’ll ever see each other again. 

**

Whoever said that time heals all wounds is a liar. 

Years pass, like they were always going to. 

Monica is 7 and the best soccer player on her team. Then she’s 8, and she’s skipping the third grade. Then she’s 9 and being inducted into Beta club. Then she’s 10, and oh God, she’ll be starting middle school soon. Monica grows up to be smarter, kinder and stronger than Maria can ever take credit for. 

She grows up like a child with a full mother instead the ghost of one; like Maria’s _not_ a parent who sometimes wants to spend days in bed, who cries in the shower and sucks the life out of a room when she walks in. whose whole fucking life got placed on hold because of some cocky, trouble-making blonde chick. 

On the worst days--when Maria is down and tired and especially morbid--she wonders what would’ve happened if she didn’t have Monica. If Frank or Mama Mae had full custody, or even if Maria had never gotten pregnant with her at all. What would get Maria out of bed in the morning? What would be the reason Maria continues to move through life? Would Maria even have one? 

Monica deserves a parent that Maria cannot be, and Maria knows that. 

But they don’t really any other options. Maria has no choice but to keep going. She has a job she has to go to, bills she has to pay. Maria has a child to try to raise. 

She can’t afford to feel how she feels. 

**

“I think . . . I think you should try dating again.” 

Frank’s says it so suddenly and awkwardly that Maria’s not sure she’s heard him correctly.

They’re at orientation for Monica’s first year of middle school. Monica’s school is some fancy public school that hands the parents thick handbooks and uniforms for their students. Monica’s sitting a table away from them, chatting with some girls she met. Monica makes friends much easier than Maria used to. 

Maria looks over at Frank as if he’s lost his mind.

“What?”

Frank shrugs, avoiding eye contact with her.

“You should try to meet somebody. Go on a date or two. It might help lift your spirits a little.” 

Maria blinks at him. A memory of an argument from years ago passes through her mind. 

“I’m sorry--I seem to remember you having a really hard time ‘accepting’ me before,” Maria says, a hard edge to her voice. “And now you _want_ me to date?” 

Frank flinches and crosses his arms. 

“Look, that was _before_ ,” he says uncomfortably. “A long time ago, you know? I guess my head wasn’t right back then. Now . . . now I just you want to feel better. Be happier. I mean, you haven’t been yourself since . . .”

Maria closes her eyes and rubs her right temple. He doesn’t say her name. He never does. And Maria’s grateful for that. 

“Any particular reason you bring this up _here and now_?” she grumbles.

“Um . . .” Frank shifts next to her. Maria opens her eyes and sees him trying to suppress a grin. 

“I, uh, saw a lady that looks like your type,” he says. 

Maria slowly turns to stare Frank directly in his face. He blinks back at her innocently. Then they both snicker, dissolving into the longest giggle fit Maria’s had in years. 

**

Frank’s not wrong. Not entirely. Dating does make Maria feel a little better for a while. 

She dates a few women. A middle-aged librarian with a taste for murder mysteries. A bartender who wears huge hoop earrings. A really sweet physical therapist who teaches Maria how to make pho. 

The only one of them that Maria sleeps is the bartender, Iris: she kisses Maria messily one night after a date, and they end up at her apartment on the other side of town. Iris laughs and yells in a goofy mix of English and Spanish as they make love, and it’s the first time in too long that Maria lets herself _go_. 

Nothing ever gets too serious. Life, jobs, and exes get in the way before they could. But that’s just fine. The loneliness that’s been haunting her for years fades. Maria’s not healed, but the wounds aren’t festering. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. 

**

There’s a return to norm in Maria’s life. 

The highs aren’t not as high as they used to be, but the lows aren't as low, either. Everything is even in a way that’s it has never been for Maria. It’s almost funny how mundane she is now, considering all that’s happened. 

Maria has two feet on the ground at all times now, and that feels better than how she was. 

Maria feels balanced now. She has her job, she has work buddies. She has Monica. Her life is normal now.

**

It’s normal . . . until one day. 

One day, when what sounds like the world’s largest jet lands near her property. 

One day, when Maria opens her front door and sees a ghost. 

A flesh-and-blood ghost, warm to Maria’s touch. A ghost whose big brown eyes search Maria’s face like Maria’s name is on the tip of her tongue. 

“ . . . Carol?” 

The ghost tilts her head just a little, blinking in confusion. Somewhere behind her, a man gets out of the aircraft, crossing the fields towards them. 

“Um . . . hi.” The ghost-- _Carol_ \--says. 

And Maria stands there, frozen, her heart pounding so hard that it might explode. 


	6. Chapter 6

It’s a dream. It has to be. 

Maria keeps telling herself that, repeating the refrain over and over again.  _ It’s a dream. It has to be.  _

Maria tells herself that when Monica shrieks “AUNTIE CAROL!” and crashes into Carol’s arms. She tells herself that as Carol introduces herself as Vers-- _ Vers. _

Maria tells herself that as Monica excitedly shows Carol the box, as Carol’s eyes start to flicker with recognition as she looks at the pictures, the medal, the bracelet; knick-knacks that they’ve been hoarding for six years. Monica rambles on and on about what she knew about their life together, about Carol’s family, about their Christmases together, about the small moments that even Maria had forgotten about. And a small smile begins to spread across Carol’s face. 

It’s a dream. It  _ has  _ to be. 

Because there’s absolutely no way that Carol Danvers has fallen out of the sky after all this time. There's no way that she’s shown up with a secret agent called Fury and an  _ alien _ \--an actual fucking green  _ alien _ \--in tow. There's no way that she’s waltzed up in here talking about some intergalactic war and about Dr. Wendy Lawson being an alien called Mar-vell and really, what the fuck does  _ Vers  _ even mean? What kind of name is that? 

Maria is dizzy. Her head is pounding and her stomach is in knots. 

It’s not a dream; it’s a nightmare. It’s a nerve-shattering, disorienting, shockingly ridiculous  _ nightmare.  _ Because if there’s even a  _ slight  _ chance this is real, it means that there’s fucking  _ aliens  _ and spaceships and they can come down on any day and take people out of Maria’s life. 

Carol looks at Maria the whole time, blinking at her, bewilderment and hesitation painting her face. Maria can see the faint memories playing behind Carol’s eyes. 

Them, dancing at a bar, drunk and giggling and tripping all over themselves. 

Them, walking to the hangar together, nervous as all hell but ready to soar. 

Them, dropping Monica off for her first day at school, Carol unable to stop herself from cooing and gushing over their baby girl. 

Them, in bed, Carol’s arm wrapped around Maria’s waist as if she never planned to let her go. 

Carol looks at Maria, and no. This isn’t her Carol. She may be real--she may be  _ here _ \--but she’s not Carol.

**

“I lost  _ the woman I love _ in a mission so top secret that I couldn’t even tell anyone what happened,” the words tumble out Maria’s mouth later that afternoon, escaping through her tightening throat as she sits in the kitchen that she and Carol used to share. 

This woman, this version of Carol stiffens at Maria’s words. She grits her teeth, and her face reddens. Her eyes search the floor beneath her feet, and God, Maria can almost see her Carol again. Maria wants to reach inside of her and drag her Carol back to the surface. She wants to spend years and years bringing her Carol back. 

That’s probably not possible. Maria knows that. It doesn’t even seem possible. But Maria can’t help wanting. 

**

Maria feels her-- _ her  _ Carol. Briefly. 

The sun is sinking into the sky, day giving way to dusk. 

The alien, Talos, has shown Carol that no, she’s not at all who she thought she was. Another alien man--her mentor, her _captor_ , Yon-Rogg, whatever he is called--lied. He lied and lied, and filled Carol’s mind with memories and ideas she’s never had. 

Carol storms out of the shed they’ve shoved themselves into, ignoring the alien and the agent Fury as she goes. And the scene is so infuriatingly familiar to Maria: Carol, angry, fists clenched and tears in her eyes as she walks away from a fucked up situation. 

And Maria follows, even though there’s a voice in her head telling her that she cannot help this woman. She runs behind her, only stopping when this woman whips around to face Maria, a devastated look on her face. 

And maybe they go back and forth for a few moments, but fuck if Maria can even grasp what they're saying to each other. She just sees pain and confusion and fear. 

“You don't know who I am! _I_ don’t even know  _ who  _ I am!” this woman yells, and the rage and hurt in her eyes looks so much Carol Danvers that Maria feels her knees weaken. 

Maria shakes, and her own heart begins to pound. Her face burns and tears spring to her eyes. 

Six  _ years.  _ Six years of Maria trying to pick the pieces of herself up and glue herself back together while Carol was light years away, getting taken apart. Six years of fighting through grief, of lies, of the voices that said this wretched feeling would never end. Six fucking years taken from them when they were in the middle of their life together. When they’d finally made a home. 

Six years--gone. And now they’re here, standing together in a place they’ve stood a thousand times. But only one of them still carries those memories with her. 

Maria puts her hands on this woman-- _ Carol’s,  _ her Carol, after all--shoulders. And when Maria speaks, her voice is stronger than she can believe. 

“You’re _Carol Danvers_.” 

Carol Danvers, a fighter. A pain in the ass. The most wonderfully stubborn woman in the world. The most fearless woman in the world. My best friend.  _ The woman I love.  _ The woman I want to spend the rest of my days with. 

And Carol--she pulls Maria to her, hugging her so close and tightly that Maria can’t breathe for a moment. Carol buries her face into Maria’s neck, and  _ yes.  _ This is  _ them.  _ And Maria just wants to hold on for the rest of their lives. 

But they can’t. Because they have fucking aliens to deal with. 

**

Maria can quit the Air Force. She doesn’t care if she flies a fighter jet. Because she’s flown a  _ fucking spaceship.  _

Maria’s been  _ in space.  _ She’s flown through cosmos, and out-maneuvered technology that no one she knows would be able to understand. Maria saves her life and Nick Fury’s life and helps save an entire damn race by flying a craft she’d never laid eyes on before. 

There’s nothing in the Air Force--no plane, no promotion--that could top this. 

Even now, as they safely land back onto Earth, Maria can feel the journey under her skin. She’s jittery, and there’s a hum in her body, and she wants to scream and cry and laugh so loudly that she loses her voice.

Maria stretches her hands out in front of her face: she’s still shaking, and it feels like the ground just moved beneath her feet. Nick Fury walks up to her, puts his hand firmly on her back.

“You okay?” he asks. “Because that was  _ something else. _ ”

Maria looks up at him. She nods, but then a shaky laugh climbs its way out of her throat. Maria laughs and laughs, and then Nick starts to laugh, too. 

“Holy shit!” Maria manages, breathless and trembling. 

 One million and one impossible things have happened to Maria Rambeau tonight. And she wants to hold every single one of them inside of her for the rest of her life. 

**

Carol’s wearing her jacket this time. 

It’s a small thing, but it comforts Maria as she watches Carol say goodbye to Monica. There are a lot of galaxies that need someone like Carol Danvers. She has to go back up there. They know that. How can Maria be upset at the idea of Carol leaving if the fact that she’s  _ here  _ still seems unreal? 

But, it’s different this time. Better, Maria figures. Carol’s alive; Maria and Monica have gotten to see her. They’ve gotten to hold her again. And she’s taking pieces of them back with her. 

Carol’s not gone. Not really. Not like she was before. 

Before she goes, Carol turns to look Maria in her eyes. 

“I’ll be back,” she says, that same look of stubborn determination all over her face.  

Maria simply nods. And smiles.

**

“Mama!  _ Mama!  _ Mamaaaaa!”

Maria wakes up slowly, groggy and disoriented. Maria props herself up on her pillow as her eyes adjust to the darkness of her bedroom.

Slowly but surely, Monica’s gigantic bonnet comes into Maria’s view. Maria smiles at her baby girl.

“What’re you doing up?” Maria slurs. 

“I can’t sleep,” Monica whispers. “I woke up outta nowhere. Can I sleep in here?”

Without another word, Maria scoots her in the bed, making sure to make a wide space for Monica. Monica crawls in, settling up against Maria and immediately shutting her eyes. 

Maria smiles down at Monica; her baby hasn’t slept in bed with her in about 9 months. Since the night Carol crash-landed back into their lives. 

“Hey, mama,” Monica mumbles, her eyes still shut.

“Yeah?”

“. . . I saw a shooting star tonight, when I woke up. A big one.” 

Maria’s stomach flutters. 

 “ . . . How big?”

“ _ Really  _ big.” 

And then Monica is asleep, snoring lightly. But Maria’s wide awake now. 

**

It’s about five hours later--when Monica and Maria are snuggled up on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons--when they hear the soft knock on the door.

Monica scrambles off of the couch before Maria can say one word to her. Monica snatches the door open and squeals as she wraps her arms around Carol. 

Carol laughs as she squeezes Monica.

“So, I’ve been missed!” 

Maria stands up. She has a thousand questions to ask, all of them very pertinent to this situation. Where are you coming from? How long can you stay? Is there a force of aliens behind you? Maria should be an adult and try to figure this out.

But she doesn’t care. It doesn’t really matter all that much to Maria. 

Her Carol came back like she said she would. That’s all Maria can see right now.

**

“I had a memory about you yesterday. A really strong one.” 

Maria looks over to Carol. They’re sitting on the couch, close together like personal space is a concept neither of them mastered. The warmth of Carol’s leg being pressed up against Maria’s is driving Maria up the wall. A few years ago, they sat on the couch like all the time, squeezed together as if there wasn’t plenty of room. 

They were like one person back then. The amazing thing is, they can possibly be like that again. 

“Tell me about it," Maria says, and she knows that every bit of her disbelief and joy is showing on her face right now. 

Carol smiles, and gently puts her hands on Maria’s. The simple touch feels magnanimous. 

“We were sitting on the hood of my car, watching the sun set. It must’ve been a Friday,” Carol says fondly. “We’d just gotten off from work, and decided to sit in the park before picking Monica up. I remember I looked at your hand, and made a joke about us getting married one day.”

“I remember that,” Maria says softly. And she does; she can picture it in her mind now. Maria and Carol, laid out on top of a car, Carol staring at Maria’s ring finger with no subtlety at all. 

“I told you that you were going to get us kicked out of the military,” Maria continues softly. “And you said you thought it’d be worth it.”

Carol nods, her face reddening. “Yes, I remember that, too.”

Maria looks down at their hands now. The sight will never not shock her. Maria will never look at Carol Danvers and not wonder about how they made it  _ here  _ after all this time. 

“I’ve been trying hard to remember,” Carol’s continues, her voice starting to tremble. “Everyday since I left here, I’ve had more and more memories come to me. And I still don’t remember everything. There are still huge holes in my mind about my family, my past, the military. All of that stuff. But you know what, Maria? I swear that I remember  _ you  _ better than anything else.” 

“ _ Me? _ ” Maria can’t stop the tears that slide down her cheeks or the shaking in her voice. She can’t even stop herself from staring deep into Carol’s eyes right now. 

Carol nods, excitement in her eyes. 

“You.  _ This.  _ Us. Our home, I guess.” 

_ Their home.  _ And all the weird, sad, rage-inducing, joyous steps they had to take to build it. 

Maria and Carol lace their fingers together. Their grips on one another feel solid.

“I think it would’ve been worth it,” Carol says. “To try for that marriage thing. Might still be worth it, you know?”

Maria watches Carol, committing every inch of it to memory again. Then, for the first time in too long, Maria leans over and kisses Carol softly on the lips. 

“I kinda think so, too,” Maria says. “We got time to figure all that out, right?” 

Carol blinks at Maria, stunned. Then she grins; a big, bright, warm familiar grin. And the sight makes Maria feel like she’s flying.

“Right. We do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this emotional mess of a fic! I hope I did well by our favorite lesbian superhero moms!


End file.
